


Of Comets and Completion

by canibecandid



Series: Stardust [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Constellations on People au, F/M, Stardust AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canibecandid/pseuds/canibecandid
Summary: There comes a point in time where the stars, the universe, everything stops just for one moment. One moment of perfection when it's just two people, and nothing else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mizjoely, I'm finally putting out something I've been sitting on since almost the beginning of writing Stardust. With her help and encouragement, I was finally able to post this story.

“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to, Molly. You’ve never forced my hand, I hope that I can show you the same in time.” Sherlock stands in the dimmed lights of her bedroom, training his eyes to stay on her own as she grips the silken bathrobe a little closer to her body. She teeters in her steps towards the black light behind her and eyes it nervously before taking a resolving breath.

“No, you’re not forcing my hand. I- I _want_ to show you,” Molly says, her smile wavering for a fraction of a second. His entire body tenses, taking in the smooth expanse of her legs showing below the hem of the deep purple robe. His skin burns with the intensity of the comets streaming across him and he knows she can feel it as well, judging by the way her breathing speeds up and the way she lightly strokes the inside of her arm. He shudders and takes a small step closer, toeing off his shoes and holding out his hand out for her to take. Her hand trembles as she places it in his and she looks down at her feet.

“A-after you jumped, in those brief moment when we had to put you under for your dusting correlations… I tried so hard to be unbiased and make notes as I normally would.” Tears gather on the brim of her lashes and she blinks them away hurriedly, squeezing his hand. “But you were so beautiful. Just like I always knew you would be.” She says it while her other hand comes to his face and traces the plumes and flares of green and yellow that exist because of his former useage. He closes his eyes as she runs her thumb over his lower lip, reveling in the feel and sensation of her touch. Slowly she brings that hand down his arm and to his other hand and inches back towards the black light. She drops his hands and takes a shaky breath before releasing the belt of the robe and standing bare before him. He can tell she wants to cover herself again, to draw away from the way he looks at her with such awe and reverence, but Molly straightens her shoulders and keeps her eyes on his face.

Sherlock runs a hand from her shoulder and down the length of her arm, absorbing her patterns to his memory. Beautiful, she’s always been so heartachingly beautiful, as his shaking hands cup her face and draws her forward. Silvers, blues, purples flecked up to her cheeks to meet his touch. Comets skipping from his arms to hers, or maybe it’s the other way around. Did it matter?

His lips slant over hers and he can feel the waves of the mock solar-flares covering them both, the slow burn consuming them. Her hands clutch at the sleeves of his shirt, holding him close to her, before sliding up his arms to pull at the collar of his shirt.

Molly’s nimble fingers quickly track down each button as Sherlock grips her hips tighter in his hands, blunt nails digging into her tender skin. Molly lets out a small hiss, pulling away from his lips and arching her back lightly. Never one to miss an opportunity, Sherlock works his way down her neck, tongue following her racing her pulse and bringing a faint glisten to her throat in the black light. He works the skin over with his teeth and soothes it with a flick of his tongue.

“Carotid artery,” Sherlock mumbles almost absently as one of Molly’s hands weaves into his curls, pulling sharply.

He nips back in response. “Oh god, did _not know_ that could be a thing.” Molly laughs airily as Sherlock hums and they stumble slightly as her knees buckle when he presses her against the wall, his arms pinning her in place. “Christ, you’re still wearing too many clothes.”

Sherlock begins pulling off his shirt, undoing the last few buttons, the sleeves catching at his wrists as he tries to fling it to the floor. Molly giggles as he growls in frustration, her hands coming to aid in undoing the cuffs. She wraps one arm back around his neck and kisses him slowly, her other hand pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. Their mouths move at a leisurely pace as Molly guides his hands back to her. Settling one on her breast, as he thumbs at her nipple, heat sparks from the edges of her Corona. Sherlock grins, feeling the slight burst of heat and dipping his head to flick a tongue over her breast. “You have a lovely abdomino corona, I wonder why all of your color is centered around your stomach….it's absolutely breathtaking.”

He lays her gently on the floor, the itch of the carpet stinging slightly, but Molly doesn’t pay that any mind. She gasps and whines as Sherlock tracks the patterns of her dusting with his tongue, dipping lower and lower on her body until he’s planting open mouth kisses on her core.

Sherlock devistates her, with every pass of his tongue and nibble on her outer lips. Breathy sighs and moans move him forward as he focuses that intensity on her.

Everything she’d ever been taught about dustings that had correlation and their physical reactions during sex flies out the window. Here, now, none of that matters as she grips Sherlock’s shoulders, her nails tracking their own paths down his back as he enters her.

Is this what people go on and on about? The cosmic _rightness_ of completion?

She lets out a small huffed laugh, completely undone by the events that had finally led them to this moment.

“And what,” Sherlock punctuates with a shallow thrust of his hips, “is so funny?”

“Us.” She smiles and they dissolve into laughter. What had been frantic becomes slow and tender, as if they had all the time in the world here, together.

And don’t they? After every trial, case, and hardship, haven’t they earned this moment where the stars align and everything makes sense?

 

Her eyes flutter closed as Sherlock kisses her again.

  
_Yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mizjoely, I'm finally putting out something I've been sitting on since almost the beginning of writing Stardust. With her help and encouragement, I was finally able to post this story.
> 
> Please do not as me for more in the comments section.


End file.
